


Indomitable

by 94BottlesOfSnapple



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Gen, Kidnapping, Mind Control, Nosebleed, POV Foggy Nelson, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:26:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29144427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/94BottlesOfSnapple/pseuds/94BottlesOfSnapple
Summary: Even against insurmountable odds, Matt never stops fighting.
Relationships: Matt Murdock & Franklin "Foggy" Nelson
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2148057
Comments: 20
Kudos: 72
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	Indomitable

**Author's Note:**

> For the Bad Things Happen Bingo square "Bloody Nose" and the Febuwhump Day 1 prompt "Mind Control"

Matt’s the strongest person Foggy knows. There are emotional fault lines in him, sure, places where he’s fragile — but he’s human, and he’s got the most tragic backstory in existence, so of fucking course there are. Even then, Matt’s will is indomitable. He doesn’t give up, not ever. Just like his dad — even when he’s on the ropes, even when he’s knocked down, he gets back up again. Always.

Right now, he’s fighting so hard that sweat beads his forehead. His eyes are squeezed shut, his jaw clenched, the muscles in his arms bulging as they strain against the rope binding him to a metal folding chair.

But it’s not the physical bonds Matt’s fighting against. Not really.

Foggy, tied up the same way ten feet across from him in this church basement full of seventies furniture and extra chairs, can do nothing as Matt jerks in his seat, head shaking from side to side in a denial of the orders being quietly fed to his ears.

Crouched in front of Matt, even-toned and calm, is a man who calls himself Zebediah Kilgrave.

“Listen to me,” he says, then sharper as Matt tilts his face towards the ceiling instead, chest heaving. “I said listen! You could have played my game, Matthew. You could have simply done as I asked the first time and brought me to Jessica, but now. Now I’m going to make you put your hands around your partner’s throat and squeeze until his heart stops. As soon as I untie these ropes that’s exactly what you’re going to do.”

Matt gasps out a no that sounds like it’s made of shattered glass, like it tore its way up through his throat. He thrashes harder in his chair. Fights it, the way Foggy himself had been unable to when he got them into this mess in the first place. When Kilgrave spoke and it was like a hundred ringing bells in his head, knocking everything else loose.

Matt’s only here because he trusts Foggy, because he trusted Foggy’s heart, steady and even, when he shouldn’t have. Steady and even because Foggy had slipped under the mind control so easily, so thoroughly that he’d believed what he was saying to Matt, about Jess wanting to meet here. He’d never even questioned threatening himself with the knife Kilgrave put in his hand. He’s not like Matt. Not at all. Matt only let himself be captured for Foggy’s sake, to keep him alive; but he fought from the first poisonous word out of Kilgrave’s mouth, snarled and bared his teeth and pushed past the compulsion.

And now... Now he’s fighting it so hard that his nose has begun to bleed. A thin trail from his right nostril drips down his lips, down his chin, so dark it’s nearly black. His rage is so potent in the air it’s almost a physical sensation. Foggy can see why people are so terrified of the Devil that roams the streets of Hell’s Kitchen.

But Kilgrave isn’t afraid.

He’s frustrated, almost petulantly so. 

“You are going to do exactly as I say!” he snaps at Matt, fisting a hand in the collar of Matt’s shirt. “Do you hear me? Stop fighting! There’s nothing you can do and you know it!”

The words are so powerful, spoken with so much force and intensity, that even across the room Foggy slumps bonelessly back in his own chair.

There is nothing he can do. There’s nothing either of them can do. Whatever Kilgrave says is what will happen. Foggy’s going to die, as soon as Kilgrave unties Matt. The thought is blurry, out of focus. There should be emotional connotations, but Foggy’s brain is too soaked in sudden ennui to understand them.

Matt spits in Kilgrave’s face, saliva and some of the blood that’s dripped into his mouth. The nosebleed has spread to both of his nostrils now. A thicker, redder flow of blood, as angry as Matt himself. He’s going to pass out if he keeps losing blood like that. The thought feels wrong in Foggy’s brain, warring with the truth Kilgrave has placed there. Matt can’t go unconscious, because if he goes unconscious Kilgrave won’t be able to take control of him. But Kilgrave’s control is inevitable. He said so.

Foggy wishes he could rub at his temples as a headache builds behind his eyes. His pulse is too loud there, the pain pounding along in time to it, and Foggy actually misses what Kilgrave says to Matt next. But this time instead of snarling or thrashing, Matt goes limp. Blinking sharply, Foggy tries to listen.

“Good. You’re going to do it,” Kilgrave bites out, tightening his hold on Matt’s collar so that his thin knuckles go white. “Nod and tell me you’re going to do it. I need to know you understand.”

Matt nods.

“I’m going to do it,” he says, firmly.

His voice has a certainty to it that Foggy mostly remembers from whenever Matt’s sunk his teeth into a problem — an injustice, a wrong — and doesn’t want to let it go. Kilgrave laughs. The noise is slightly hysterical.

“There. Good lad. Knew you’d come around,” he says, patting Matt on the cheek. “Let me get those ropes undone so you can follow through.”

Without hesitation, Kilgrave undoes the ropes. But why shouldn’t he? He’s got Matt under his control, just like he said. There’s nothing for him to fear from Matt. It’s true, and undeniable, but it tastes sour in the back of Foggy’s head.

Because... Because Matt would never... Matt would never—

By the time Matt’s standing over him, expression dark, the thought has slipped under again. One split-knuckled hand caresses Foggy’s throat; the gesture is thoughtful, almost tender. The other joins it. No pressure yet, just a loose hold. Blood is still gushing from Matt’s nose, and it’s splattered all over his jaw, his shirt, his tie. It’s going to be a bitch and a half to get it all cleaned up, Foggy thinks idly. Matt’s fingers flex.

Over his shoulder, Kilgrave’s grin is maniacal, ear to ear and as sharp as a band saw.

“Go on,” he urges Matt. “Go ahead.”

Foggy doesn’t like looking at Kilgrave. He looks back at Matt instead. The anger on his face. It’s a cold anger, not the wildfire of before. Not helpless rage, but something icy and calculated and decided. That surety is almost beautiful.

Foggy swallows and waits for Matt to squeeze.

Matt doesn’t squeeze. He whirls around and lands one perfect, beautiful punch to Kilgrave’s jaw that knocks him out cold. Foggy feels like he’s been doused in a bucket of ice water — the cloudy, sticky feeling of Kilgrave’s words in his brain gone in an instant. Matt spits again, more blood than saliva this time, and then scuffs the back of his hand across his nose and mouth.

“Y’ ok, Fogs?” he asks, voice rough, a weak little smile canting his lips upwards.

Foggy lets out a disbelieving laugh. He’s still tied to a chair and he’s going to need about one million fucking therapy sessions, but at the moment? At the moment, there’s so many endorphins dancing in his blood he could fight God.

“Holy fuck, Matt.”

And as those powerful bruised-and-bloodied hands release Foggy from his bonds with impossible care, he knows he was right before. There’s really only one word for Matt.

Indomitable.


End file.
